


Swimming in Miami

by DeadByJune



Series: Of June [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: A bit sad and depressing, Also Lil Cal is there, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Can you miss someone you've never known?, Dave and Rose's relationship could be interpreted as being of a romantic nature, Dirk is really lonely but doesn't really have a concept of loneliness?, Gen, How does Dirk have running water? Where does he get food? Nobody knows, Inspired by Owl City lyrics, It's what I personally had in mind but I purposefully left it open to interpretation, Nothing is properly explained and nothing makes sense, sort of i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 18:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20232523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadByJune/pseuds/DeadByJune
Summary: He’s not aware of all that’s been long since lost to the Atlantic blue, but he knows that, were there to be a city down there still, no one looking up would be able to find him here. The pulse of it wouldn’t ever sleep and neither would he. Trains departing every five minutes and airplanes leaving streaks across the night sky; the murmur of city sounds and cold neon light swells into a symphony of white noise - it was like a distant memory that was not his, and yet it was, in some way. But he was alone, high up above that atmosphere of energy that lingered, two last breaths dragging four hundred years into the past, and he could disappear, hide from the world or what was left of it, by closing his eyes.The first chapter in a series of Homestuck fanfics inspired by lyrics from the 2007 Owl City album Of June.





	Swimming in Miami

Opened windows welcome hot summer air into the cool and darkened apartment. It’s a silent afternoon, with only the sound of water crashing against the steel construction which supports that what’s left of the building. The occasional clamor of a flock of seagulls squawking in the distance is the only thing breaking the quiet from time to time. Sunlight filters through the half-drawn blinds and paints golden patches on the carpet of the living room. It leaves his bare feet warm as he deliberately stands in one, soaking up the heat, and enjoying it in content silence.

  
There’s a light ocean breeze stirring through the apartment today. It stirs up a feeling. A distant sense of happiness, perhaps - or that of tranquility. A story waiting to be told; he feels it in the essence of his being, but doesn’t have the words to express it. Things seem to be more right today than usual, unlike other days, when nothing is right at all, and his heart feels heavy. He stands, slender body dressed in just a thin, loose grey tank top and orange boxers, hands relaxed at his sides and lost in thoughts. Amber eyes shimmer in the summer-halflight of the apartment, grazing over the freckle-dappled skin of his face, his cheekbones and nose, dusting it in soft shadows. Then he bends over, lifts up the blinds with his fingers and peeks outside into the light.

  
He’s not aware of all that’s been long since lost to the Atlantic blue, but he knows that, were there to be a city down there still, no one looking up would be able to find him here. The pulse of it wouldn’t ever sleep and neither would he. Trains departing every five minutes and airplanes leaving streaks across the night sky; the murmur of city sounds and cold neon light swells into a symphony of white noise - it was like a distant memory that was not his, and yet it was, in some way. But he was alone, high up above that atmosphere of energy that lingered, two last breaths dragging four hundred years into the past, and he could disappear, hide from the world or what was left of it, by closing his eyes.  
If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

  
He is pretty positive George Berkeley said that.

  
If he were to fall and make no sound, he would not panic in fear of not existing. He would bask in the bliss of his nothingness, and close his eyes.

At dusk he climbs the stairs to watch the sun set over the horizon, the sky dyed in hues of blue and pink and orange like the running colors of a watercolor painting, until the light sinks into the ocean, and everything vanishes into the approaching night, engulfing him from behind in a gentle embrace. He stays there and watches for several more minutes until the last of evening glow has silently faded, and darkness falls over the waves. Then he goes inside, undressing, and following the sun, sinks himself into the cold water of the bathtub.

Listening to the drops falling from the faucet in the dark, he rests his hot cheek to the cool porcelain and stares at the blotch of blue his shades on the floor reflect onto the white tiles of the wall, like a patch of fallen April sky. He never switches the lights on on nights like these, ever. Silver slivers of light reflecting in the water thread through the bathroom, shivering as they soak up all the sounds around. He doesn’t dare to break it by moving. The moment seems so solemn, like a prayer without a voice, and he can’t help but think of him. His presence is always there, somehow, in a way he can not quite explain or wrap his head around, but he’s always felt protected. As if nothing in the world could ever harm him as long as he’d be on his mind. Often, he wonders what he was like.

He tries to imagine the color of his eyes, the warmth of his body but can’t. It’s useless, and - like imagining a color that does not exist, impossible. Time passes, and when the water has warmed up to the temperature of the room, he climbs out and pulls out the plug. The piping makes a rumbling sound inside of the walls and he pauses to listen. Then he throws on an oversized shirt, and through the darkness, wanders to his room. His brother is still on his mind as he crawls into bed. Heaving a deep sigh he lies on his back and stares up at the ceiling, sprawled out on top of the mattress, like a starfish in peach, drifting away with the current.

He left him videos. They were old and dusty, and it took him quite a while to figure out how the thing that turned out to be a video recorder worked. The day he did, he saw his brother for the first time in his life. He was twelve.

  
“Is this thing even recording? C’mon… Oh, it is. Uh… Hi. How are you doing, Dirk? My name’s Dave. I’m your brother…”

  
“My brother?” he had gasped out at the TV screen, arching forward and getting up from his butt to sit on his knees as he stared at the man that spoke to him. His voice was pleasant and he could see the reflection of a camcorder in his dark aviators. He was wearing an all black suit with a white silk tie.

  
“I know… This is probably quite a surprise and, it’s okay if you’re confused. But you’re old enough to know how a videotape works now, and I think you’re old enough to know who I am. Or… Was.”

  
“Where are you? I don’t understand…” Cautiously reaching out to touch his cheek, he was greeted by the flat, lifeless surface of the screen, and pulled back with a confused expression on his face.

  
“You see, Dirk; when you’ll be watching this, I’ve been dead for four hundred years already. I wish it would have been different, but I can’t change it… I’m so sorry I can’t be there with you.” At that point, another person walked into the frame, causing him to look up. He distinguished it as a woman although he could only see the lower half of her body. She wore a long ombre chiffon dress in a deep, rich purple with a black overlay, flowing around her form like the clothing of a mermaid underwater, and a very pretty silver and amethyst bracelet on her delicate wrist that came into view the moment she put her hand on the man’s shoulder. He looked up at her and smiled, reaching up to take her hand in his.

  
“We just want you to know we love you very much, Dirkie, and we think of you a lot...” Her voice was warm and loving. Again, he arched forward, because he wanted to see her face, but realized he couldn’t before he made a fool out of himself.

  
“Yes… Rose and I love you a lot, and you’re always on our mind. We’re both very proud of you, do you understand?” He squeezed her hand, and she leaned down, humming softly as she kissed his temple with a smile formed by black lips before turning and walking off again, the sound of heels on marble dying out in the distance.

  
Silence fell as the man that was his brother turned towards the camera again and sighed, pressing his lips together into a thin line before tilting his head slightly.

  
“Well… I think that was all I wanted to say to you for now. Hopefully I get to do this again soon. I love you. Remember that, okay? Take good care of yourself and stay safe...” For a few seconds, he stared straight into the camera. Then he leaned forward, reaching for something out of sight, smiled softly. “Alright… Bye.” And the screen cut to black.

He feels him in his core. It is the energy his life left behind on this planet that travels through his veins. If he were to cut himself, he would bleed it out in colors of sunset.

  
It seems as though he can’t fall asleep that night, for some reason. Listening to the sound of his breathing he tries and tries, but to no avail. Even though he sometimes drifts off into pleasant slumber, he seems to linger in the thin veil between dreams and wakefulness. It doesn’t really matter - he does not mind to lie awake like this every now and then. At night, the world, or what’s left of it, is quiet. Time slows. Nothing seems to make a sound as everything around him seems to breathe with the rise and fall of water. He loves to lie his body down and contemplate the strangeness of life in that silence, with Lil Cal pressed close against his chest, or his face hidden against the safety of his stuffed body.

  
He listens as all devices in his room die down. One by one, the cooling fans come to a halt in the dark, and the lights indicating their activity change color or go out as they switch themselves into night shift. They are programmed to do this; go to sleep and wake up with him again, so that they stand ready when he needs them.

  
With the stars looking down at him through his window, his equipment just keeps standing by. And out here on the open ocean, it’s so dark that he can even see the planets glowing in the far distance on clear nights. Sometimes, he wonders if there is someone out there, looking back at him, and asking themselves whether they are all alone as well.

Hours pass before he gets out of bed and moves to the living room, seeking out the cool draft of air that passes through the open space, his own room far too hot still to peacefully sleep in. He curls up on the old futon couch; something that always calms him, although he’s not sure why. There’s a soft blanket on it that has been there for as long as he can remember. All of a sudden, he wonders if his Bro ever slept on this thing. Turning his head, he presses his nose into the blanket, but smells only the fabric itself, and sea salt. He heaves a sigh as eyes close and his body relaxes. The night goes on.

  
Lying half asleep in the comforting darkness, he loses track of time and space as he listens to the sound of sloshing water in the flooded stairwell. It seems to climb up the steps, washing over the empty floors right below his one. The sound is always the same and sweeps away his sorrows gently. Just by its presence, he would not be ever able to tell whether it is midnight or afternoon. Thus, he remains unaware. What once was the city of Houston is now full of splashes. It could be raining, but then he could never tell.

  
In his mind, there are images of moments he has never lived. He doesn’t question these, just accepts them as they come and allows them to carry him away. He watches on from high up above a boulevard as workers in a west coast shipyard, in denial of the night, finish unloading the last cargo ship. The briny port smells of oil and fish and the world over the harbor glistens, praised with lights.

He rearranges the cutlery in the kitchen drawers, does the dishes and wipes the counter clean before he heads to his room with a glass of ice cold orange juice in his hands. Cal hangs from his back as he sits down in his large swivel chair, his noodle arms looped around his neck and his head resting between his shoulder blades as he spins around once, taking a sip from his juice. Then, putting his glass down, he taps the space key on his keyboard. The screen comes to life in white and the device spreads a low humming sound throughout the room. It is 4:13 am.

  
Adjusting his chair he makes himself comfortable in front of his desktop, yawning as he stretches out, hands reaching for the ceiling, as if he would lift it off just to breathe the ocean air. The screen silently welcomes him as it loads his files. A moment later, it gives him his wallpaper. It is a picture. One of a blond man in a short-sleeved, red tee. He smiles a beaming smile as he throws his hands up in the air, with the Hollywood Sign in the background. It makes for a classic holiday photograph. One he wished he could retake together with him one day. A wish that will never be fulfilled.

  
The sudden realization makes his heart ache and it hurts him more than he ever thought it would. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, but remains as silent as the distant, nearing morning around him. He sees no point in crying out loud. There won’t be anyone to hear him.

  
One tear falls from his eye - shoots from his lash like a falling star and splashes onto the keyboard below.

  
For once, he is pretty sure it isn’t raining. Yet, he feels like it is. Is he really all alone in this awful downpour? His heart makes a silent wish for him to struggle free from everything and leave; paddle out of this cage that keeps the world at bay.

  
He sighs. His eyes close and he leans back into his chair, then gets up and slowly walks over to the window. Resting his hands to the cold windowsill, his fingers curl up into his palms and he peeks outside.

  
If only he could leave this place, go swimming in Miami. And all around him would be traffic and city lights.


End file.
